


His wish my command

by AsrielDremurr



Series: Jeremiah x Bruce [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 06:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18463022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsrielDremurr/pseuds/AsrielDremurr
Summary: Bruce has finally found Jeremiah's hideout and decides to bring justice upon him once and for all. He has underestimated Jeremiah's obsession.





	His wish my command

The old building is empty and so silent that Bruce feels like his breathing echoes through the halls. He understands now why Jeremiah has chosen this specific building as his hideout. He doesn't even need security cameras or anything, it's just impossible to enter without him knowing.

As soon as the door falls shut behind him a candle lights up to his left. Bruce stares at it and rolls his eyes. Why are all Valeskas so dramatic? It must run in the family.

More candles light up, on both sides of him like a track that leads somewhere. He doesn't really want to follow it but then again, does he really have a choice?

His first steps are careful, his eyes scan the room to make sure nobody sneaks up on him. His steps create an echo in the halls and Bruce cringes slightly every time. His body is tense and he really expects an attack.

But nothing happens. The candles lead him into a big hall, the high walls decorated with fairy lights. Bruce thinks for a second that he hears something move in the dim light of the candles but he's not sure. He lifts his fists nonetheless, just as a precaution.

For a second he asks himself again why he's even following the lights. Every horror movie will tell you that it's a bad idea. Maybe it's because he knows that Jeremiah will only be disappointed and angry if he doesn't follow this weird game they're playing. It's a game neither of them know the rules to. It's random, it's dangerous and the thrill of it makes his blood boil even though he will never admit it. It's a rush and if he isn't careful he'll become addicted to it.

Maybe he already has.

The candles part wider in front of Bruce. They seem to lead to something and he isn't really sure if he wants to know what it is. It looks like lights around a stage. He really wouldn't be surprised if that's exactly what it is. The candles create a flickering shadow on the walls and his stomach twists.

The candles lead up a few steps and then stop. Bruce instinctively stills, waits. Seconds turn into what feels like hours. Nothing happens.

He wants to take a step forward but suddenly light bursts before his eyes and he backs away instinctively, fists clenched.

Bruce blinks a few times to let his eyes become used to the brightness. It's almost blinding and he squints. Slowly he can make out the silhouette of what seems to be a gigantic chair or something.

He steps closer, carefully inspecting it. The black leather armchair has fairy lights wrapped around it and the fabric is ripped. On a closer look there are ropes tied to the armrests. His stomach drops. He backs away from the chair, almost trips down the steps only to be caught by strong arms.

"Do you like it, Bruce? I made it only for you."

Jeremiah's voice in his ear gives Bruce goosebumps and he tries to turn around in the other's embrace that feels more like a cage. He can't.

Jeremiah giggles, his hand almost lovingly running through Bruce's hair. His breath tickles his skin.

"You know, it's rude to just enter someone's house without knocking or anything. Lucky for you I knew you would come here eventually. You'd be dead otherwise."

Bruce struggles again but he can't escape. When has Jeremiah become so damn strong?

"What is all of this? Your personal throne or something?," he spits. His voice cracks slightly when he feels the other's lips close to his skin.

"I thought you'd get it by now, Bruce. This isn't for me, it never was."

Jeremiah's lips touch his ear and he shivers involuntarily.

"This is all for you, your throne to reign over Gotham like you're supposed to. It's your birth right, Bruce. Gotham's crown belongs to you."

With that something strikes Bruce's head and he falls to the floor, stars bursting behind his eyes. He feels sick and dizzy and while he slowly drifts off into unconsciousness Jeremiah's words repeat over and over in his head.

This is all for you. Gotham's crown belongs to you.

***

Jeremiah smiles down at the unconscious teen before him. He looks so beautiful, so peaceful in all this chaos. He kneels down beside Bruce, running a hand through his soft black hair. A shiver runs through him at the feeling. If only he could do this every day, show Bruce just how much he understands him, how much he loves him.

Jeremiah clutches the teen close to him and stands back up with him in his arms. He carefully carries him to the armchair and sits him down in it. He ties the ropes around his arms and legs to make sure the teen won't escape. The final touch is the crown he places on the other's raven hair. Then he steps back to admire his work.

Bruce looks breathtakingly beautiful. The lights illuminate his peaceful face, making it shine in a way that causes Jeremiah's stomach to drop. He doesn't understand how anyone could look at Bruce and just see a person, a human being like any other. Even the people who say they love him don't see it. The girl he loves doesn't see the ethereal being Jeremiah sees when he looks at Bruce.

Ra's understood him. But now he's dead, like everyone else who dared to stand in the way of Bruce's wrath. There really is a beauty in the way the Wayne boy strikes down on his enemies like an angel of vengeance. It makes Jeremiah's knees weak every time he witnesses it, especially when the wrath is directed at him. The glare in Bruce's eyes, the way he surges forward to attack, and it's all for Jeremiah, all because he did something to upset him.

He thinks that he deserves it, deserves every bit of anger and violence Bruce chooses to inflict on him. If he told him to give his life so he could reach the goal of making Gotham his, Jeremiah would do it without a second thought. He wishes he could make him see the bigger picture, make Bruce understand how everything he does is for him, how his mere existence is dedicated to fulfilling Bruce's every wish. If the Wayne boy would let him he would worship him, treat him like he deserves to be treated, his desires Jeremiah's command.

He sinks to his knees before the steps that lead to Bruce's throne and looks up at him. His angel, his god of vengeance. He's so beautiful, so ethereal in the way he sits atop his throne, and Jeremiah wants to stay like this, to await every command, every word Bruce decides to give him, to allow him to do whatever he wants to him as long as it satisfies him.

Jeremiah almost whimpers when Bruce lets out a groggy sound, blinking as he slowly wakes up. The shock and anger on the teens face when he realises where he is and what happened makes Jeremiah's blood boil and he adverts his eyes to the floor. He doesn't dare to look at him.

With a shaky breath and his eyes still fixed on the floor he greets him.

"Welcome, Prince of Gotham."

***

Bruce stares down at the Valeska in shock. The deja-vu hits as he is reminded of Ra's, of his plan to shape Gotham into a place for him to rule over. Does Jeremiah believe that, too?

He struggles against his restraints again but the ropes don't give in. They cut into his skin instead, making him hiss in pain. He looks down at the man kneeling before him, forehead almost touching the floor in a submissive gesture. His stomach twists.

How did this even happen?

Bruce's eyes wander around the room but there is nothing in sight he could use to free himself. There's only the man kneeling before him.

Jeremiah slowly stands up, a twisted grin on his face. His eyes show a slight insanity, a craziness that makes Bruce shiver.

"You're so beautiful, Bruce. Do you understand it now? Do you see it? Everything is for you. Everything I do, everything I am."

Bruce shivers and he doesn't know why. What does Jeremiah mean? Is he really that insane?

"I would conquer Gotham and give it to you as a present if you let me! Just for you, Bruce!"

Jeremiah's voice cracks and his green eyes are wide as he stares at him. It seems like there is no humanity left in him, just his obsession and his insanity. It hurts.

Bruce gulps. Can he use this obsession to his benefit? Is that a way he can free himself? How far will Jeremiah go to prove to him whatever his twisted mind sees in him?

"Prove it!" His own voice sounds strange to his ears, the authority in it something he hasn't used in a long time.

Jeremiah just sighs sadly. "You would only use me to flee, wouldn't you? You still don't understand!"

He steps closer until he is standing right before the chair. His legs touch Bruce's knees, something the teen finds hard to ignore for some reason. Just like the smell of Jeremiah's cologne as the man leans in, his mouth close to Bruce's ear.

"If I can't make you understand like this then I guess I'll have to show you the world the way I see it."

Bruce doesn't have time to react before he is enveloped by purple gas. He coughs, breathing it in involuntarily. Almost instantly his body starts to spasm and he digs his nails into the leather of the armchair. Pain is wrecking through him while more and more pictures flicker through his mind of everyone he loves dying.

Laughter starts to spill from his mouth while he squirms and shudders. His eyes squint shut and he's sure that tears are running down his cheeks.

When the torture finally dulls down Bruce opens his eyes, takes in the room that seems so new to him. The weight of the crown on his head makes him grin. He sits upright, frowns when he realises that he's still tied to the chair. Why is he still tied up?

Jeremiah comes into view, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. His pale skin almost shines in the light the candles cast and Bruce finds that he has never looked so handsome.

What? No! That's not supposed to-

He shakes the intruding thought from his mind and focuses on Jeremiah.

"Cut me loose."

The authority rolls from his tongue easily this time around, as if he's been doing it all his life. Jeremiah complies, his green eyes not able to keep off him while he cuts the ropes. Bruce rubs the blood back into his hands and stands up slowly. He holds his head high naturally, takes in the candles on the floor that lead to his throne and pride flows through him. His throne, his crown. His, everything belongs to him.

This is wrong! You aren't- You have to stop him! Do something!

Bruce rolls his eyes at the memory of his old self. He would have hated this, would have rejected the power given to him, presented on a silver plate.

He isn't going to be so foolish this time.

He looks at Jeremiah next to him who's still staring, disbelief and awe in his eyes. It feels good to be looked up to like this, to be desired like this. He knows that Jeremiah wants him, has known it for a long time but his old self has always denied himself the fun. Old Bruce Wayne has been scared, disgusted by his own feelings.

This new self isn't. He will take what he is given, twist and turn the world to get what he wants. And if Jeremiah adores him and will do everything he says, even better.

"Jeremiah."

The Valeska hurries to kneel in front of him and the submissive pose makes his blood boil. Why has he never seen his own potential before, their potential? They could rule Gotham together, Jeremiah at his side to fulfil every wish and command directed at him. God, the things he could do!

Jeremiah still awaits his orders and Bruce stares down at him with a smirk, makes him wait, lets him shiver under his dark gaze. He enjoys it, enjoys the power he has over him.

"Jeremiah, if I told you to kill someone who stands in my way would you do it?"

The response comes immediately, sure and determined. "Yes. I'd do everything for you."

That's exactly the answer Bruce has hoped for. He takes the knife from Jeremiah's hand and studies the way the light reflects on the blade. It's fascinating.

"And if I told you to kill someone you love?"

"I'll do anything you ask me to do." Jeremiah's voice is shaking slightly now. Maybe he knows where this is going, maybe he just enjoys being treated like this, it doesn't matter.

Bruce smiles darkly and quickly holds the knife to Jeremiah's throat, the blade slightly digging into his skin. Green eyes widen and look up at him but there's no fear, no struggle, just surprise.

"And if I told you to kill yourself for me?"

Jeremiah just leans forward into the blade, eyes fixed on Bruce. He doesn't even flinch, just allows the blade to split his skin open, his life depending on Bruce's decision. It's fascinating to see, the devotion in his eyes.

Bruce grins, pulls the knife away just a bit and pushes Jeremiah's chin up with it. He leans down, sees his reflection in the other's green eyes, the dark look in his own eyes reflected by Jeremiah's dilated pupils. Their lips brush and Bruce's smirk grows even darker as he crashes his lips into Jeremiah's, blade still at his throat.

His blood is boiling, the power makes him feel high and he loves it. When he pulls back Jeremiah's eyes are still wide, this time with desire. There is a bleeding cut at his throat from where the blade still presses into his skin.

"Perfect. Look at you, so beautiful. There's only one thing missing. Nobody knows that you belong to me. We need to change that."

Bruce rips Jeremiah's shirt open and sees the flicker of hope in his eyes before it changes to pain in a matter of seconds as the knife digs into the skin over his hip. The pained scream he lets out is music to Bruce's ears, the blood that stains his hand and the purple shirt looks so beautiful that he has to smile.

When he pulls the knife away Jeremiah whimpers in pain as the blood stains his clothes. He lifts his head to look at what is now carved into his skin.

Property of Bruce Wayne

Tears are running down Jeremiah's face but he looks up at Bruce with so much devotion in his eyes that it makes his breath hitch for a second. He motions for him to stand up and the Valeska complies quickly. He's shivering under Bruce's dark gaze.

Soon everyone will know all about the Prince of Gotham, the ruthless ruler of the city who destroys everything and everyone as he shapes the city into his kingdom of fear. At his side his right hand, the man who moves in the shadows and follows his every command. The citizens will fear them, cry in the dark of the night and beg for their lives.

And in that moment, while Bruce looks around the old hall lit up by candles he can see his future right before his eyes. He grins.

The Prince of Gotham will rise.


End file.
